Saturday, March 22, 2008

もどかしさ

Why must this be so frustrating?

Friday, March 21, 2008

Patti

I had a revelation while Patti was being put to sleep. I always feel such guilt whenever a death floods me, not with pure misery and loss, but with some sense of relief. But why? When someone has lived a long, good life, had many moments of happiness, moments of excitement, plenty of squirrels to chase in the backyard and bone marrow to munch on, thousands of pats behind the ears, and now she is old, and she will die soon no matter what, because that is how life goes...then, if her death can be quick, can help her avoid sickness and pain...then, why should it be unnatural to feel relief? Even gladness? Why should that mean I didn't love her just as much, that I don't feel the loss just as much?

Maybe it was different for me because she is no longer a part of my daily life. Maybe if her death meant that instead of her greeting me every day after school, I came upon an open gate at the kitchen reminding me that we no longer needed to close it, perhaps then I would have cried. But wouldn't those tears have had more to do with me than with Patti?

Patti and I understood each other, and have since the day we got her, the day she walked over to me and jumped up onto my lap when she could have fled down Cedar Avenue. I loved Polar deeply but Patti was mine, my dog. When she first got sick I thought I could never consent to hastening her death. But I was wrong. She was sad and uncomfortable. She'd lived her life. I've already spent the last three and a half years missing her. Now I miss her less. Now she's ended the time that she was destined to be in our house, and I feel happy for her, happy that she loved me, happy that she came back that first day, happy that we understood each other.

Thank you, Patti.